


Holding On

by tinadp



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Brotherhood, Fluff without Plot, Friendship, Gen, Modern AU, Prompt Fic, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:25:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6364810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinadp/pseuds/tinadp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis is ill and injured and his brothers are there to care for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a prompt on the meme looking for "Sweater Paws" an ill/injured/exhausted Aramis all cute and cuddly.  
> I hope I did the prompt justice.

"Aramis no!" Porthos yelled as Aramis met his gaze with an apologetic look and turned to jump off the bridge's railing and down towards the river. 

He ran to the rail and looked down to the river. He couldn't see Aramis anywhere, or the criminal he had followed off the bridge. Porthos shuddered for a moment when he saw how far the drop was and then he turned and ran. He needed to get off the bridge and to the bank of the river to find Aramis and pull him out. 

His shoulder ached and burned as he moved but he could not let it slow him down. He needed to get to Aramis, he knew it was because of him that he had followed Martell into the river. He had only been back to work a couple of weeks, sidelined after the bastard shot him in the shoulder. He was grateful to see Athos and D'Artagnan ahead of him as he made his way off the bridge and towards the river bank. 

As he made his way closer he was relieved to see Athos bending over to help someone out of the river. D'Artagnan was standing by with his gun raised at a second man, also at the edge of the bank. 

Porthos stopped and caught his breath once he saw Athos embracing Aramis and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Athos paused a moment to let Aramis gain his footing before releasing him and then turned back to the river. 

Porthos quickly made his way to Aramis, pulling him into a crushing embrace as Athos pulled their suspect out of the water. Porthos felt Aramis tense in pain and he immediately pulled back keeping his hands on his friends shoulders and looking at him critically. He gently wiped blood away from his face, dripping from some wound hidden by his sopping, tangled hair. 

"I'm fine," Aramis rasped, his teeth chattering. 

"I doubt it," Porthos growled. "Let's get you outta that coat." He gently helped Aramis pull off his sodden winter coat, noting his pained expression as he moved. Once Aramis' coat was off, he pulled off his own parka. Aramis looked about to protest and Porthos stopped him with a glare. "Don't Aramis."

He put his coat around Aramis and zipped it without risking more pain by putting his arms in the sleeves. 

"Porthos..." He croaked, clearing his throat. 

"Stop, we need to get you to the hospital. " 

By that time their suspect was sitting on the ground handcuffed. "Do I get to go to the hospital too?"

"I'm sure there is an infirmary at the prison." Athos shot him a disdainful look. 

"I don't need the hospital..." Aramis began. 

"No, of course not. "Porthos growled. "You've only gone swimming in the middle of winter, your ribs are cracked at the very least, you're bleeding from your head, and you were already sick to begin with. No need at all!"

Aramis could hear the deep worry in Porthos' voice. He leaned into his friend. "I'm sorry Porthos, of course I'll go."

"Thank you." Porthos whispered, gently embracing his friend. 

"Take the car and go." Athos tossed him the keys. "We'll catch up once we pass this one to the guards."

D'Artagnan made his way over to Aramis, leaning close until their foreheads touched and gently embraced him. "You nearly scared us to death Aramis. "

"S-sorry," Aramis apologized through chattering teeth as Porthos put his arm around him and led him towards the car. 

They had just entered the emergency room when they heard a familiar voice. "Aramis d'Herblay what have you done to yourself now?"

Constance was upon them in a moment pulling them into an exam room, letting the woman at the desk know that she'd come back and register him later. 

"Had himself a bit of a swim," Porthos responded and Aramis silently allowed himself to be led along, shivering fiercely. 

Constance appeared ready to scold him when Porthos added. "He went in the river after Martell...from the top of the bridge."

Constance paused, she knew that Martell had shot Porthos, had gone after D'Artagnan as well. "D'Artagnan and Athos are turning him over to the guards now."

"I'm glad you got him," she whispered to Aramis, "but do you know what losing you would do to these boys, and to me?" She kissed his cheek.

She turned to Porthos, "Help him out of those wet clothes and I'll go get some blankets from the warmer in the OR." She pulled a pair of pajamas out of a cabinet and handed them to Porthos before leaving the room. 

Porthos unzipped his coat and pulled it off of Aramis. Aramis fumbled with buttons on his shirt, his fingers numb and uncooperative. 

"Let me 'Mis." Porthos grabbed his hands and held them for a moment. "I've got them." 

Porthos gently removed his clothes, gasping when he saw the bruises already forming down Aramis' side, even more sure that he had broken some ribs. 

By the time Constance returned a shivering Aramis was sitting on the stretcher, enveloped in Porthos' arms as he tried to warm his friend. They wrapped him in blankets after Porthos lifted his top to show her his side. She quickly checked his temperature and vital signs and went to find the physician. 

She returned a few moments later with Dr Lemay. "Aramis, I'd say it's nice to see you again, but I wish it was not under professional circumstances."

Aramis managed a faint smile and a shrug to the doctor who knew them so well, but did not even try to speak. 

"Could one of you tell me what happened? I know you've been in the river, but I need to know about your injuries and how long you were in."

Porthos looked to Aramis who nodded before he started to explain. Aramis remained silent almost as much by necessity from his chattering teeth and fading voice as by choice. He managed to shoot Porthos a glare when he explained how Aramis had already been sick for at least a week before he went in the water. 

Lemay tried not to smile at the interaction between the two, amused that they managed to continue their banter even without verbal communication. In addition to treating the elite police force known as the Musketeers frequently in the ER, he had been engaged by Captain Treville as the team's physician. He knew the men well, and never ceased to be amazed by the amount of physical abuse they put their bodies through and just kept going. 

After Porthos finished, Lemay quickly and thoroughly examined Aramis, palpating the blooming bruising developing on his right side and frowning as he listened to his lungs.  
Once he finished he securely wrapped him back into his collection of blankets. 

"Well I must say Aramis, you always keep things interesting for me." He smiled faintly and continued. "Your temperature is low, but I think we should be able bring it up. That's our first priority. We'll start an IV and give you some warmed fluids. Next we'll need a chest X-ray and I want to start you on some antibiotics. That river is full of all kinds of germs, plus I can already hear some congestion in your lungs. With some likely broken ribs, it'll be far too easy to progress to pneumonia. " Aramis nodded. 

"Do you have any questions?" The doctor asked and both men shook their heads. Porthos stood to take his hand thanking the doctor warmly as Aramis whispered his own thanks. 

Within moments Constance returned to the room to start his IV. She also brought two styrofoam cups from the hospital cafeteria. "Coffee for you," she smiled and handed one to Porthos before turning back to Aramis. "Hot chocolate for you. It should help you warm up a bit."

Aramis smiled as he reached his arm out from his blanket cocoon while she prepared to start his IV. "Thank you," he croaked. 

She frowned at the sound of his voice. "You sound awful. Probably should've been home sick in bed today instead of swimming anyway." She tutted as she inserted the IV. He knew her well enough to not say a word. He also knew how much she worried about all of them, in marrying D'Artagnan she inherited his three brothers to worry about as well. 

Once the IV was in and the fluids infusing she returned with more warm blankets and helped him lie down on the stretcher. He took her hand and kissed it, whispering his thanks and apologized for worrying her. 

She smiled down at him and kissed his forehead. "I know you were doing what you had to do. And I am glad you caught that horrible man. I just don't want you to kill yourself in the process."  
She gave him a hug and promised to check back soon. 

True to her word she was back a short time later to recheck his temperature and clean the wound on his head before wheeling him off to X-ray. They had just left when Athos and D'Artagnan arrived, looking worried. 

Porthos updated them and the three settled in to wait, Athos pacing back and forth in the small room. "You are sure he's alright?" He asked, frowning with concern. 

Porthos shrugged. "I think so, they said his temperature was down, but they should be able to get it up. I'm more worried about his ribs, and his lungs. You know how bad his cough was before he went in the river. Lemay said it would be easy for him to get pneumonia...."

"He's so stubborn..." D'Artagnan began but was interrupted as Constance and Aramis returned. 

She smiled widely at the sight of them, "The rest of your boys are here." She pushed his stretcher back into the room. "Dr Lemay will in as soon as he sees the X-ray. Do you need anything before I go?"

"No, thank you Constance." Aramis rasped squeezing her hand. 

She gave the others a thorough looking over before taking D'Artagnan's hand. "You boys are ok?" She went on her way once they assured her they were uninjured, having delivered the criminal safely. 

Aramis did his best to reassure his friends that he was fine, making idle small talk despite the fact that he was clearly feeling unwell and in significant pain. The more he talked, the more hoarse his voice grew and the more he was clearly fighting the urge to cough. 

Finally Porthos spoke up, "Stop it 'Mis."

Aramis looked up at him in surprise. Before he could ask what was wrong Athos interjected. "We know you are trying to keep us from worrying Aramis, but please stop. Save your voice and rest brother." He reached out and squeezed Aramis' shoulder through his nest of blankets. 

"You know that we aren't going anywhere, no matter what." D'Artagnan smiled. "We are not that easy to get rid of." 

Aramis smiled at the others and nodded, after he few minutes his eyes drifted closed. His rest however, was short lived, as he continued to shiver and be pained by his raw throat. His friends looked on helplessly until D'Artagnan suddenly stood. "Can I get you something to drink Aramis?"

Aramis offered a faint smile, "Hot chocolate, please."

The younger man set off for the hospital cafeteria and returned in a few minutes with Aramis' hot chocolate, and coffee for himself and the others. Aramis thanked him and gratefully sipped the steaming drink. 

After a few sips Aramis started sniffling and Athos quickly provided his handkerchief to his friend. Aramis nodded his thanks, wiping his nose. A few minutes later he sneezed suddenly, a cry of pain following the outburst as tears filled his eyes and he clutched his side. 

The others were on their feet immediately , but did not know how to help him. Porthos moved to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently as Aramis struggled to get his breath. 

"You need something for pain, I'll get Constance." Athos disappeared from the room. 

Porthos spoke softly to Aramis trying to reassure him, while D'Artagnan stood by, resting a hand on his back to help support him. 

Athos was back in a minute, followed closely by Constance who was carrying a syringe. She frowned once she looked at Aramis. "I'm sorry I can't give you anything stronger until your temperature is back to normal." She injected the medication into his IV. "This should help though."

"Thank you," Aramis whispered, closing his eyes again. 

Constance tucked him back into his blankets and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Dr Lemay is looking at your X-rays now. He'll be right in. I'm going to go get you a little pillow so you can splint your side if you need to cough or sneeze."

"There's no need," Aramis croaked, opening his eyes. She looked at him questioningly for a moment and he added. "After that I've decided that I will never sneeze again." He offered a faint smile and the others chuckled softly. Constance huffed and shook her head as she made her way out of the room. 

Dr Lemay returned to the exam room a few minutes later carrying Aramis' X-rays. His expression was serious. He put one on the viewer before turning to Aramis. "I want you to see this. These are your ribs, obviously. Here on the right," he gestured ."These five are broken, some in more than one place." He paused a moment, "As your doctor, and even more so as a friend, I need to ask you to never do anything like this again. If even one of these had broken at a slightly different angle....and punctured your lung or lacerated your liver..... Well, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I don't think that I would be treating you. Honestly, I don't think you would have made it out of the water."

The others suddenly looked sick and Porthos paled visibly before making a distressed sound. Aramis reached out from under his blankets to take his hand as Athos rested a hand on his shoulder. "Porthos, I'm fine." He croaked. 

"We could have lost you." Porthos' voice was choked with emotion and he stood suddenly, moving towards the door. He stopped before leaving, taking deep breaths, trying to regain his composure. 

D'artagnan quickly moved beside Aramis, resting a hand gently on his arm to prevent him from trying to go to Porthos, knowing his legs likely would not carry him. At the same moment Athos moved to Porthos, placing his hand on his shoulder. 

Lemay paused, waiting for the men to settle before continuing. "Not quite fine Aramis, though I believe you will be. This area here," he gestured to the X-ray once again. "Looks to be pneumonia." Aramis closed his eyes as Lemay continued. "It's not from today, but it's definitely a concern. It's the complication we watch for most with broken ribs and you already have it."

"So what does that mean?" D'Artagnan asked, finding his voice as the others remained silent. 

"We need to be vigilant to treat it and be sure it doesn't progress." He looked directly at Aramis, "It will be painful, but being up moving, coughing and deep breathing to keep your lungs clear." Aramis nodded. "After your temp is back to normal we'll give you some better pain relief but it will still hurt like hell." He returned the faint smile that Aramis gave him. 

"Will he need to be hospitalized?" Athos voiced the question on everyone's mind.

Aramis held his breath waiting for the reply. "Normally I would hospitalize him overnight at the very least," Lemay began, "But knowing what a terror, I mean challenge he is to the nurses, not to mention the medical staff." He smiled faintly. "If you gentleman are available, I'm thinking he might do better at the Garrison, with armed caregivers."

Aramis held his breath, normally he would have no doubt that his friends would care for him, but he worried he might have pushed things too far by taking such a risk. He needn't have worried. 

"I'm sure that we are due some time off after completing this mission, I will speak to Treville. It won't be a problem." Athos offered and the others added their agreement. 

"Thank you," Aramis croaked, sighing in relief and finally looking at his brothers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys bring Aramis home to the Garrison to take care of him.

It was hours later before the four finally made their way out of the hospital. By then Aramis had received two more liters of warmed IV fluids, three doses of antibiotics, and finally some strong narcotics for pain. He dozed off in the wheelchair before they even reached the exit and only stirred for a moment as Porthos all but lifted him into the car, quickly sliding in after him to keep him from falling over. Aramis ended up curled up practically on his lap snoring softly, and Porthos could not help but smiling fondly at him. 

The Garrison, as they called their home and headquarters, was close to an hour drive from the hospital, outside the city. Originally it was an estate that had been in Athos' family for generations. It had been empty for a number of years when Treville had recruited him for his elite force. Athos had been living in a more practical apartment in the city at the time, and Treville was working out of a small office in the city police station. The Captain just recruited Aramis and Porthos to join the force as well. 

They were all looking to relocate and it seemed silly to Athos to let the property go to waste.   
He had refused payment and he and Treville had argued back and forth. He was sure that some deal must have been reached with his accountant and money must be going into an account somewhere. 

It was D'Artagnan who had dubbed it the Garrison once he joined the group. By then it seemed obvious after Treville had taken to calling the group the Musketeers. He had only moved out a few months earlier when he and Constance had married. 

The main house was big enough that each of the men had their own suite. The library had become Treville's office though he had refused to move in, wanting his men to have time away from him in their off hours. Athos had finally persuaded him to move into the caretakers cottage at the edge of the property. 

Aramis was still sound asleep, drooling on Porthos' shoulder when they pulled up in front of the house. D'Artagnan helped him ease Aramis out of the car, both men guiding him into the house and into his bedroom. Once he was deposited on the bed, D'Artagnan left to join Athos in reporting to Treville. They had been texting him updates from the hospital, but they knew he was extremely worried about Aramis. 

By that time all the movement had jarred Aramis' ribs enough that his pain caused him to wake fully. Once Porthos was sure Aramis was sitting safely on the bed, and not in danger of sliding off he turned to his dresser and pulled out sweatpants, a tee shirt and his favorite hoodie, as Aramis was still wearing his hospital pajamas and Porthos' coat. 

"Do....do you think I could shower?" Aramis whispered, still feeling the filth of the of the river on his body and in his hair.

"Do you think you can stand long enough?" Porthos frowned with concern. "Maybe a bath?"

"Don't know if I can get in and out of the tub..." He cleared his throat. 

Porthos nodded, "Would hurt too much to help lift you too...." After a moment Porthos smiled. "Athos' bathroom has that fancy hot tub, I'm sure he wouldn't mind. It's big enough I can get in with you if I need to." Aramis smiled and nodded, knowing Porthos would get him through whatever kind of ordeal the bath ended up being. 

As it turned out the bath was not an ordeal at all for Aramis. Porthos helped him undress and get into the tub, then stripped to his shorts and climbed in beside him. He gently sponged Aramis clean and washed his hair. The others returned to help him safely out of the tub and him gently dry off, while Porthos slipped off to dry himself and pull his clothes back on. 

Porthos returned to help Aramis dress. By the time he finished Aramis was clearly in pain, his breath hitching. Porthos looked up with a worried expression, as he helped him into his socks. "You ok?"

Aramis nodded, "I will be," he panted, "In a minute, or two..."

Porthos remained kneeling in front of him, resting a hand on his arm as Aramis struggled to catch his breath. After a few minutes Aramis gained control over his breathing. With his pain relenting minutely his thoughts returned to his friends. Especially to Porthos. He realized that he owed them all an apology. He had been so intent on getting to Martell, making the man pay for what he had done to Porthos, that all reason had escaped him. When he stopped to think about how his friends must have felt, how he would have felt if Porthos, or one of the others had done the same. 

" 'Mis, are you ok?" Porthos saw the tears in his eyes. "Are you feeling worse?"

Aramis shook his head, "No, I'm alright. I was just thinking that I owe you an apology...."

"No 'Mis, it's fine. As long as I know you're ok now..." Porthos could feel the tears forming in his own eyes. "It....it was just so scary, to think we could have lost you."

Aramis leaned forward and Porthos enveloped him in a gentle hug, pressing their foreheads together. "It's ok," Porthos whispered after a moment. "Let's get you to bed. Do you think you can walk?"

He nodded, "Is it alright if I stay out on the couch for awhile?" 

"Course it is," Porthos pushed his hair back from his face. "It'll be much easier for the rest of us to look after you that way. Your room would be a mite crowded with the three of us and Treville." He chuckled softly and gently helped Aramis to his feet. 

Aramis leaned heavily against Porthos as they made their way out of the bathroom. The larger man gently supporting him, trying not to put any pressure on his broken ribs. By the time the reached the sofa Aramis was pale and shaky, his breaths coming in short gasps. By the time Porthos lowered him to the couch he had started to cough. 

D'Artagnan quickly handed him the small pillow they had brought from the hospital and Porthos helped hold it against his side to splint his ribs, as well as keeping his other arm around him to keep him sitting up. Once he finally stopped Porthos helped him settle back onto the large sectional. Aramis had gone impossibly even more pale and sat motionless with his eyes closed, once again trying to breathe through the pain. 

"I think it's close enough to time to take one of these." Athos held out the bottle of pain medication to Porthos and went to get a glass of water. Porthos helped him take the pill and positioned him with his pillows and blankets that D'Artagnan had retrieved from his room. Within a few more minutes Treville appeared with a large steaming mug of tea. 

"How are you son?" He asked, perching on the edge of the sectional. 

Aramis shrugged. "I've been better, but I'll be fine." His voice was barely audible. 

"I am pleased to see you in one piece. I'd like to request that you try not to jump off any more bridges in the future. "

He managed a faint smile. "I'll see what I can do sir." He sipped the tea and smiled as the honey sweetened liquid slid down his throat. 

"That's good to hear," Treville smiled back at him. "Because even if you make it, the rest of us might not survive the next time. And do not open your mouth to apologize. Save your voice." Treville leaned in and kissed the top of his head before moving to his chair beside the fireplace. 

Aramis closed his mouth and returned to sipping his tea. He was pleased to be home and surrounded by his friends, truly they were his family, his brothers. Porthos had settled beside him on the corner of the sectional, sitting almost shoulder to shoulder, while Athos, after poking at the fire he had started in the fireplace sat beside his feet, and D'Artagnan, finding the other side of the sectional too far away, simply settled on the floor beside Aramis. 

Aramis smiled at his friends, a small part of him feeling he should tell them that they didn't need to stay and watch over him, but the rest of him wanting their presence more than he could admit. And if he was honest with himself he knew that they needed to be with him as much as he needed it. It was their way. Once one of them was injured, something serious enough to truly frighten them, they needed to be together, if only to reassure themselves. 

Athos looked down at Aramis, the worry evident on his face as he watched his friend. Not for the first time, he appreciated his purchase of the enormous leather sectional after he had put his parents antique furniture into storage. It had proven to be large enough to allow the four men to spread out without crowding each other when they frequently spent their evenings there, often eating their supper on the large square coffee table in the center. At times like these though, it had proven invaluable. When one of them was injured, they would invariably end up spending most of their convalescence settled in there, surrounded by the others, who could never bear to be too far away. 

Aramis met his eye and reached out a hand towards his friend. "Do not waste your voice telling me you are fine Aramis." Athos spoke before he could open his mouth, but he did reach out and take his hand. 

Aramis smiled faintly and sighed, lifting up his legs. Almost automatically, Athos slid closer, Aramis' legs resting across his lap. He kept hold of Aramis' hand and squeezed. He tried not to think about how close they had come to losing him. After he lost his brother, Athos had never expected to have the same kind of bond with another man, let alone three of them. The mere thought of losing any one of them was unbearable. 

D'Artagnan looked up at his mentor, slightly surprised to see so much emotion on his face. It was rare to see the older man with his defenses down, but D'Artagnan knew that it was times like these that did it. Although Athos showed them how much they all meant to him on a regular basis with his actions, he was a man of few words and rarely allowed his emotions to surface. 

D'Artagnan grinned as Aramis lifted Athos hand to his lips and kissed it, the older man's serious expression transforming to a momentary smile. He looked to Porthos who had also watched the exchange and smirked back at him. 

A loud growl from D'Artagnan's stomach broke the silence and the others chuckled. "Well," Porthos laughed, "There's our most reliable reminder of a missed meal!"

D'Artagnan smiled and stood, "I'll go make us something for supper..."

Treville waved him off, "There's no need, I have stew on and bread in the oven. It should be almost ready." He stood and made his way towards the kitchen, D'Artagnan following along to offer assistance. 

Porthos looked down fondly at Aramis, his eyes were closed but he didn't appear to be asleep yet, he was leaning against Porthos, and still holding tightly to Athos' hand. Porthos looked over to Athos and met his gaze. 

"Are you alright?" Athos asked him softly, his expression once again concerned. 

Porthos nodded and offered a smile. "You are sure?" Athos pressed, "Your shoulder?"

"It's fine." Porthos reassured him. 

Athos looked doubtful. "I'm sure it must be sore."

At that Aramis opened his eyes, "You should take something Porthos," he whispered, turning to look at his friend. 

"Aramis," Porthos huffed. "You need to worry about yourself. My shoulder is fine."

"I'm positive!" He added when Aramis looked ready to question him again. 

"If you say so my friend." Aramis sighed not looking convinced. 

Porthos' frustrated response was interrupted by the return of Captain Treville and D'Artagnan. Both men carried trays with bowls of stew and fresh bread and placed them on the table.   
D'Artagnan served Aramis first as Porthos adjusted his pillows. 

The men ate their meal hungrily and gratefully. The Captain explained the cooking had been his attempt to distract himself from his worry when he couldn't focus on his work. He also knew that none of the men would stop to eat when they were so worried about Aramis. 

The injured man himself sleepily ate about half his stew before he was overcome with a bout of harsh coughing. D'Artagnan put his bowl aside, and helped him lean forward, using the pillow to splint his side. Aramis ended up leaning over D'Artagnan's shoulder, gasping for breath, between coughs.

Aramis tried to pull away, worried he was coughing all over the younger man, but D'Artagnan held him firmly and reassured him. Porthos had moved closer and was gently supporting him from behind and Athos had disappeared to the kitchen for some water while Captain Treville looked on with concern. 

After several minutes his coughing finally ceased and he went boneless in D'Artagnan's arms, too weak to even wipe the tears from his eyes. 

"Alright?" D'Artagnan asked softly and he nodded. D'Artagnan held him gently, stroking his hair until Aramis found the strength to sit up and then helped him lean back on the pillows. Athos handed D'Artagnan the glass of water and he held it as Aramis drank greedily. 

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, grasping the younger man's hand as he closed his eyes, clearly exhausted. D'Artagnan remained beside him, keeping hold of his hand and gently stroking his hair until he was sure he was asleep. D'Artagnan sighed in relief once Aramis finally settled and looked down at his friend with a mixture of worry and affection. His two friends shared the same expression, while their Captain paced nervously.

"You are sure Lemay said he did not need to be hospitalized?" He demanded looking at his men. 

They all nodded and Athos responded. "He did, I believe he felt he would be a very challenging patient and that we might have better luck with him here. He will be by in the morning."

Treville frowned at the response, "It seems like there should be more to be done for him."

Porthos shrugged, "I'm not sure what else they can do there. I just hope we can do enough to keep him home..." He reached for the bag from the hospital pharmacy on the table to sort Aramis' medications, while Athos gathered their dishes and went with Treville first to the kitchen and then to his office. 

Aramis slept peacefully for a couple of hours. By that time D'Artagnan had slipped back down to his spot on the floor to leave the ill man more room to rest comfortably and Aramis' hand found its way to the younger man's hair. 

Porthos chuckled at the site, "He wants to be sure you haven't gone too far."

D'Artagnan smiled, "That's fine with me, I want him close too."

"I know what you mean," Porthos replied softly. "I don't want him out of my sight..."

Athos returned to the room and looked at Porthos critically. "You're in pain Porthos." It was not a question. 

Porthos looked up in surprise. "I'm fine Athos..."

"Don't tell me that your shoulder is not aching. I can see it in your face." Athos frowned slightly.

"Are you taking over for Aramis as mother hen?" Porthos chuckled. "It's just a bit sore."

"I know how you are," Athos made his way over to his friend and spoke softly. "You're so worried about Aramis that you are ignoring your own pain." He placed his hand on Porthos arm. "Go, at least take a shower, and take some Motrin. Aramis is fine for now. We'll watch him."

Reluctantly Porthos agreed. His shoulder had been sore most of the day, he'd just pushed it out of his mind. He thanked Athos and slipped off to his rooms to shower quickly. 

When Porthos returned Aramis was awake and coughing. This time he was in Athos' arms, the older man supporting him and holding the pillow to splint his ribs. Porthos stood by feeling helpless as D'Artagnan returned with a mug of tea. After several minutes the coughing ceased and Aramis leaned weakly into his friend, trying to catch his breath. 

Athos gently rubbed his back and spoke softly to reassure him. Finally Aramis was able to collect himself. "Thank you my friend," he croaked, shifting himself more upright though he continued to lean heavily on Athos. 

"Are you alright 'Mis?" Porthos asked with concern.

"I am Porthos." He reached out his hand to his friend. "Don't look so worried..."

Porthos chuckled at that. "You do know how ridiculous that is..."

Aramis smiled, "I guess I do."

"Drink your tea Aramis," Athos ordered as D'Artagnan handed him the steaming mug. Aramis nodded his thanks and gratefully sipped the warm, sweet liquid. 

Porthos pulled a dose each of antibiotics and pain medicine from the pill bottles on the table. After Aramis finished the tea, Porthos handed him the pills and then a glass of water. Aramis nodded his thanks and swallowed the pills. 

"Can we do anything for you?" D'Artagnan asked Aramis, watching his friend with concern. 

"You're already doing everything my friends," Aramis smiled. "Thank you for staying with me..." 

"Now the drugs are making you sappy," Porthos choked, ruffling his hair and leaning in to kiss the top of his head. "You know there's nowhere else we'd be right now." The emotion was evident in his voice as well.

"Now who's being sappy," Aramis grinned, squeezing his hand. "But truly, I am grateful that you are all here with me. D'Artagnan," he turned to the younger man. "Don't you need to get home to Constance?"

"Not tonight Aramis, I'm not ready to let you go just yet." D'Artagnan smiled. 

Aramis looked overcome with emotion, "Thank you." He sniffled and Porthos leaned in to embrace him gently. 

Once the pain medication kicked in Aramis was clearly ready to sleep once again. Porthos offered to move everything to the bedroom but he refused, claiming the warmth of the fire too appealing to leave. None of the others believed that excuse any more than he did. 

By the time he fell asleep he had managed to have his legs sprawled once again across Athos' lap and his pillows were nearly in Porthos'. D'Artagnan had settled in front of him on the floor once again, and his hand rested on the younger man's shoulder. It was evident that he was craving physical contact with all three of his brothers. 

While Aramis had drifted off to sleep quickly, the others found their minds racing, unable to escape the events of the day. Treville chuckled at the sight of them when he stopped in after finishing his hours of paperwork. 

He disappeared for a moment to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and four glasses. "You gentleman look like you could use a drink."

The four men sat for close to an hour, finishing several bottles of wine while speaking softly and watching over their injured friend. Finally they felt themselves start to relax and thought sleep might be possible. Treville left them after retrieving more blankets and pillows for them, and making them promise to call if there were any changes. 

Athos and D'Artagnan drifted off fairly quickly, but Porthos could not stop replaying the image of Aramis going over the railing of the bridge in his mind. That and the feeling of panic when he looked down into the water and could not see him. He had only just drifted off when he woke to the sound of whimpering. 

Aramis was clearly dreaming, he reached out to soothe him and could feel heat radiating from the man. "Oh Aramis," he whispered, worried about the fever. 

Aramis slowly blinked open his eyes as Porthos pushed the hair back off his forehead. "Porthos?" 

"I'm right here 'Mis."

"Are you alright? Your shoulder..." 

Porthos frowned at his confusion. "I'm fine, you're the one who's hurt. You were dreaming."

Aramis closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get his bearings. "That's right, I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. The important question is are you alright?" He asked noting Aramis starting to shiver. 

"I am....just cold."

Porthos frowned again. "You've got a fever."

"No," he shook his head. "I'm fine. Just cold." He cuddled closer to Porthos.

Porthos gently put his arms around him and tucked in his blankets. Still Aramis continued to shiver. Porthos pulled him closer and after a few minutes Aramis wiggled onto his lap and curled up in his arms. 

Porthos chuckled as Aramis sighed contentedly. "Are you warm enough now?" Aramis just smiled and nodded and Porthos kissed the top of his head and held him close. Aramis was snoring softly within minutes and with Aramis safe in his arms Porthos was able to follow him to slumber soon after.

Treville made his way to main house early the following morning. Though the wine had helped him fall asleep easily, once he woke in predawn hours , thoughts of Aramis and worries of his condition prevented him from returning to his sleep. He puttered around the cottage for as long as he could stand before giving in and heading up to check on Aramis. 

He slipped silently into the house, planning to take a quick look in on his men, then make some coffee and retreat to his office. He was pleased to find the house dark and quiet when he entered. As he made his way towards the living room the only sound he could hear was snoring. 

He smiled in relief at the sight he saw before him. Aramis was curled up on Porthos lap sleeping, his head resting on the big man's shoulder. Athos was on one side of Porthos, Aramis' feet resting on his lap. Athos' hand was curled around one of his ankles as he slept. D'Artagnan had relocated from the floor during the night. He was curled up on Porthos' other side, his head resting beside Aramis' on Porthos' shoulder, his arm reaching around Aramis with his hand resting on his chest. 

Treville stood in the doorway watching over his men. In the dim light he could see a slight flush to Aramis skin, but his face was relaxed and peaceful, without any signs of pain for the moment. He remained still as the ill man stirred, clearing his throat and opening his eyes. He looked to see his brothers around him and smiled, quickly closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep. 

At that the Captain turned and headed to his office, leaving his men to their peaceful slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> The longer I go without writing and posting anything, the more nervous I get. That and reading all the amazing writing out there.  
> As usual I offer a little bit of fluff, without much substance. And shockingly, a sick, injured Musketeer.


End file.
